A girl can only feel like hammered poop so many hours a day

August 4th, 2014, 10:16 PM by Goddess

So I’m noticing a little bit of a “rage” theme in my past, oh, seven thousand posts. Or however many I’ve published (and not pulled back into draft mode) since 2001.

In any event, I need a clean slate. Like, now.

I made plans Thursday night. Because I will be in civilization again. I have to start somewhere when it comes to putting my life back together.

Maybe I can make plans every Thursday. Shit is POSSIBLE now. More than it used to be, anyway.

I said to mom the other day, isn’t it funny how my two highest-paying jobs were the ones were I was also the freest/happiest? My world wasn’t defined ONLY by pre-market, market, after-market and weekends.

Granted, there were other things wrong with my world. But if I needed to go get my shit together, I could.

And did.

Tonight I didn’t go back to work. I settled in for an evening of “Real Housewives” and “Mistresses.”

I’ll pay for it tomorrow. I always do.

But I don’t feel as wretched as I did when I last posted three and a half hours ago. That’s as close to feeling good as I have in a long while.



Free as we’ll ever be

August 2nd, 2014, 7:50 AM by Goddess

I lugged home all my shit from Ye Olde Alligator Farm last night after a 13-hour day in which I still didn’t finish the pre-Monday work.

If anyone wanted to fire me or if I wanted to quit, this would be the right time since I have all of my earthly belongings in the trunk of my car.

On my way out, I saw a family of about 10 tiny brown pigs and two large ones sitting by the roadside. They ran when I pulled out my camera.

Then I saw three cranes or egrets or what the hell ever standing on the highway about three miles later. Not on the roadside. The highway. Silly birds. I hope they’re still OK.

I know that I’ve blamed a lot of my stress on my commute, the building, the other side of the company, whatever. Even though, in the end, none of it really bothered me.

Honestly, I loved most of the people. I enjoyed running over to people’s desks all day to solve problems together instead of doing the ridiculous chain e-mails cc’d to the entire planet that are asked of us for documentation purposes. And the drive time wasn’t so bad because nobody on earth is driving out to Bumfuck Egypt so it was a fast commute most days.

It will be interesting to see how it all works out in the stripped-down version in a better part of town. The building holds terrible memories for me. And I’m still going to have a thousand hours’ worth of work a week to achieve.

I guess I”m looking forward to being able to walk across the street to pick up dinner instead of starving all night and then coming home to a cold dinner that was lovingly cooked three hours earlier.

My new hire has finally concluded that it’s not that I work 75 hours a week — it’s that I do 100 hours’ worth of work in 75 hours. I’ve gotten SO FAST at cranking shit out that trying to teach it to someone is killing my groove and now I’m back to working weekends to finish what I could have done had I not taken the hour-ish a day to try to share my thinking and processes.

I’m not complaining. And I’m not looking for a compliment. But I’d be shocked if they haven’t taken out an insurance policy on me.

In any event, I’m afraid the more things change, the more they will stay the same. It’s my worst nightmare, in fact. Someone finding a way to prove me wrong would be the true thank-you I crave …



Hour 60 of my captivity

July 31st, 2014, 5:23 PM by Goddess

It’s 6:22 p.m. on a Thursday and my night to pick up dinner for my sickly mother. But lo, I’m 60 hours in already and probably have another three more to go AT LEAST. And don’t get me started about how painful Fridays are.

It’s my last week at the Alligator Ranch. I thought I might get to lunch with my friends (hah. Why try now after three years) or maybe get to have a beer with them (hah. Why try now after two years).

It’s like the universe wants to be sure I hate everything until the last possible moment until it goes away and so do I.

Film at 11 if there were anybody else left in the building I could choke. No danger of that, ever!



Damn skippy

July 30th, 2014, 2:05 PM by Goddess

I keep thinking it’s Thursday. A side effect of working all day Sunday, I imagine.

My new hire is continually mind-boggled at how much work I do. And how numerous and complicated our processes are. And how I’ve mastered pretty much everything. And yet how much guilt I have to carry that I can’t spend all 24 hours working because that’s just how much there is to do.

He reminds me constantly, in a big way, how lucky the world is to have me in it. It’s a nice reminder that I can easily be replaced, but I am absolutely irreplaceable.

Nice to be appreciated.



The last worthless evening

July 3rd, 2014, 6:13 AM by Goddess

Everybody’s working for the weekend.

I”m working on the weekend.

The holiday weekend.

Again.

Funny thing is, I used to have some help and I can’t say I’ve been any less inundated since I stopped having it.

Good thing is, help arrives Monday.

So the body count can remain at zero for yet another “holiday” weekend where the rest of the company cheerfully e-mails that we can either A) leave early if our work is done (hah) or B) hold our breath waiting for people to come back from vacation to take care of things I needed them to take care of while they were off enjoying a week off.

Of course, I’d rather hear folks were on vacation than just siting in their office, refusing to do what I ask without my boss’ permission. Ain’t nobody got time for that, least of all me.

In case that wasn’t obvious.